Death is Only Temporary
by QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Five times Jake Chambers died at the hands of Roland and One Time he didn't. Contains character death, mentions of suicide and violence. 5 1 fic


1\. Jake knew the first time wasn't the gunslingers fault directly, but indirectly. A butterfly beating it's wings to cause a hurricane. He still carried the scars from it even now that his journey was done, the tower climbed and the gunslinger's quest finally completed. Jake shifted to the middle in the crowds that huddled on the pavement, waiting for the green man to cross the road. It was uncomfortable and warm, bags knocking into him, elbows jabbing into his sides, confused looks as he slipped past people time and time again to wait in the centre. He was too exposed in the front, too fragile without the comforting press of bodies around him. He had been an innocent child on that day, lifetimes ago when a rough hand had impacted with his back, sending him staggering off the pavement and into the oncoming path of the speeding taxi. Jake knew what it felt like, to lie on the sticky tarmac, hear the ringing in your ears as horrified screams erupted all around him, what his own blood tasted like as he coughed it back up from broken lungs in a broken body. He knew what it felt like, to turn his head and see a familiar face that he did not recognise staring back at him, one hand raised in the act of pushing him to his death.

2\. It was difficult to look the gunslinger in the eye. His bright blue gaze seemed to see everything, to know every thought which shifted through your head from the benign surface thoughts, to the dark twisted things which you buried in your soul, desperate to never encounter them again. Now the gunslinger had trouble looking Jake in the eye, blue gaze skimming away from Jake's gaze. He spoke to his face, held his gaze for as long as he could but soon he would break, eyes darting away. Jake expected this. The people he had killed still haunted his dreams, insubstantial figures with grasping fingers and the cold breath from the grave. He did not have to see them in his waking days even now in this busy, bustling city. Roland did. Jake remembered staring into the gunslinger's eyes, bright blue as bright as the sky they hadn't seen in days in the perpetual dark of the tunnels. Roland looked between him and the man in black, high overhead. Jake swung, the darkness below seeming to reach out and try to swallow him whole as he wrapped his hands more firmly around the gunslinger although he knew it made no difference. This Roland was focused above all else. And so Jake fell into the dark because of the gunslinger's quest.

3\. Susannah had suggested they all find someone to talk to, had said that it might help their ka-tet stabilise in this new world. It had taken convincing, Roland terrifying every person Susannah tried until they found one woman with a spine of steel; Eddie cautious but optimistic, small steps towards a better man until his past demons didn't hang over his head; Susannah travelling as well, trying many different people before settling on a younger man, his voice kind and willing to listen; Jake was harder. He was young, he was traumatised, he had memories of death that did not translate in a way that Susannah could not understand. Eddie was haunted by his death, but not like Roland and Jake. His third death was indirectly caused by the gunslinger. By letting him fall, he had set Jake on this path, the slowly spiralling path to madness. He was dead, but not. He was alive, but he was dead. He would never tell the gunslinger that his descent into madness had been made quicker by two quick cuts across each wrist and then waking up the next morning with two silvery healed scars, very much alive. But somehow he thought the man knew.

4\. "I'll come and find you."  
Roland's words followed the duo as the man dragged Jake backwards, his breath short and sharp, nails biting into his shoulder, knife cold against his throat. Jake tried not to breath, the stale scent of sweat and sickness emitting from the man, limbs becoming cold and uncooperative as he stumbled along. The man was mumbling to himself, eyes darting this way and that, grenade launcher dropping from his shoulder and hitting against Jake's side causing him to cry out in pain. The man snarled, nails sinking in even further, sounding more animal than man. Jake didn't want to die here, far away from his ka-tet, away from his family.  
"I have to make sure. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the man babbled, words breaking free of his slurred mumbles before he descended once more into tongues. It happened before Jake could move, blade slicing through his throat, warm following in wake of the cold bite. Everything grew dark for a moment before it was too loud, too much and he was lying on the ground, the man looming over him, one hand stretching out towards his face-  
"Jake."  
Eddie was sitting on the ground, empty palms outstretched towards him in a gesture of surrender. Jake was in bed in this modern New York, gun heavy in his hand as he shakily lowered it.  
"It's time to go," Eddie said calmly, slowly moving forward and wrapping one hand around the gun, prising it from loose fingers.  
"I'm sorry," Jake said, head lowered, fingers rising up to run across his neck.  
"It's okay. We are all learning to live here. C'mon."

5\. This should have been his final death, but who could count the times he had died like this for the sake of one man's quest? Jake was broken and bloodied, world greying at the edges as he tried desperately to breath, to hang on for a few more seconds of life. This had to have worked, this could not have been in vain. Struggling Jake raised his head, blood oozing down the side of his mouth, metal coating his mouth. Roland crouched over the writer, bullet flashing between his fingers in the headlights as he spoke quickly. It had worked. He hoped this would be the last time, this final death. He closed his eyes, relaxing back into the damp leaves, rain beginning to gently spatter against his face.  
"'Ake," Oy said sadly, the billy-bumbler nudging against his hand before lying down next to the dying boy.  
"Jake," Roland cried, leaning over the dying boy, tears welling in his eyes. And in those last few moments, Jake remembered. He remembered the past travels through this endless cycle, saw Roland change more with each repetition, becoming closer and closer to the man who would break this endless cycle. He could only hope it would be soon. And so Jake Chambers closed his eyes for the final time. And Jake Toren opened his.

+1. Hanging over the edge, Jake was struck with a sudden sense of Deja vu. The emptiness yawned below his feet, grip sweaty on the metal girder that creaked and cracked under his weight, slight though he was.  
"Roland please!" he called to the gunslinger, the man's gaze slowly travelling between the dangling boy and the man in black several feet ahead. Jake knew he couldn't get to them both; it was him or Roland's tower, the objective he had been walking towards for so long. The gunslinger crouched down, stretching out a hand to Jake, the boy clinging to the gunslinger desperately.  
"Roland," the man in black called, voice soft and sweet, a siren's call to the gunslinger who wavered grip slackening on Jake's wrist. The boy felt himself fall, surrendered himself to this death, this trip into the abyss.  
Roland's grip tightened on the boy's wrist, both hands wrapping around the boy and Jake's eyes opened to see Roland's gaze fully fixed onto him, blue eyes seeing into his soul.  
"I won't let you fall," Roland said, and Jake believed him.


End file.
